


There Goes the Neighborhood

by amusawale



Series: A Different Type of Apocalypse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Did I say slow burn?, Hunter Benny Lafitte, Hunter Dean Winchester, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, canon compliant wincest, pre-series AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusawale/pseuds/amusawale
Summary: Dean didn't get to collect Sam from Stanford. They never took to the road together. Sam went on to be a lawyer and Dean did his hunting thing. But now Sam wants to run for mayor and he needs to scrub his record of this annoying brother who is a stain on his impeccable record. He meets with Dean, and asks him to "kill himself" so that Sam can be free of him. Dean agrees. Sam is dissatisfied now. Why does his brother find it so easy to let him go? (which, really, hypocrite much?" - the author says as an aside)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> can you imagine I started this story before the 300th episode aired? perhaps I'm psychic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the wonderful TxDora

Sam sat with his head in his hands, looking at the police report in front of him. He sighed, leaning back in his original leather office chair and sipped his expensive cognac. He closed his eyes, feeling every one of his thirty-five years. A soft knock had him opening his eyes and taking a breath.

“Yeah?” he said.

The door opened and a tall blonde woman smiled at him.

“Hey. You ready to come down? Dinner’s in ten minutes.”

Sam smiled tiredly, “Sure. I’ll just finish up here.”

Jess smiled back, wide and happy, “Okay then. See you in a bit.”

Sam put his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss. She pursed her lips and smooched the air before closing the door behind her. He listened to her footsteps recede and didn’t look back down at the file until he could hear her descend the stairs.

A picture of his brother stared back at him with an impressive list of offenses attached.

Name: Winchester, Dean.

Aliases: Robert Plant, Finus McGillikuty, John Bonham and a variety of other has-been rock star names.

Status: At large.

* * *

DOB: 24th January 1978 Scars: unknown

Place of Birth: Lawrence, Kansas. Hair color: dirty blonde

Height: 6ft 1in Eye color: green

Weight: 180lbs Sex: male

Remarks: Charges include murder, kidnapping, discretion of graves, suspected terrorism, theft, credit card fraud, impersonating an officer of the law and other minor infractions. Subject is suspected to be a sociopath with narcissistic tendencies and religious ideation.

* * *

Sam dropped the file on his desk, covering his eyes with his hands. This was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. How was he even supposed to _begin_ to fix this? He was running for office and if any of his opponents got their hands on this file, his campaign was dead in the water. The only advantage that Sam had right now was that as far as anyone knew, Sam had no family. He’d had no contact with them since he’d left for college at eighteen and his dad had said, “If you go, then you never come back.”

Meeting Jess had been the best thing that ever happened to him. Her family had taken him in, treated him like a son from the get-go. It was Mr. Moore who had steered Sam’s career, making sure he made all the right moves and met all the right people. It had been his idea for Sam to run for office.

But first, he needed to deal with Dean Winchester; make sure he wouldn’t be a problem.


	2. Accidents Don’t Happen Accidentally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a knock at his office door and Sam looked up to see Sarah peering in at him with a hesitant smile.

There was a knock at his office door and Sam looked up to see Sarah peering in at him with a hesitant smile.

“Bad time?” she asked.

Sam shook his head, waving her over.

“What do you have for me?” he asked.

“The campaign posters are here. You need to sign off on them. Also, Mr. Monroe Styne is here to see you.”

Sam sighed, looking down at his watch, “Isn’t he early?”

“You want me to have him wait?”

“No, send him in. It wouldn’t do to have my largest campaign donor languishing in the waiting room.”

Sarah nodded, almost curtsied, before leaving the room. She really was a sweet child, Jess’s cousin twice removed, who was learning the ropes in the firm by working as Sam’s personal assistant. Sam straightened his shoulders and stiffened his spine as a soft knock announced Sarah’s return with Mr. Styne. Sam fixed a smile on his face and turned to face one of his biggest supporters in his race for mayor.

“Mr. Styne, how good to see you again. Can I offer you some brandy?”

“Thank you kindly Mistuh Winchestuh but in actual fact, I am here to offer mah services to yuh. I heah you might have a small problem regarding a former family member?”

Sam tensed, wondering where Mr. Styne could possibly have heard such a thing. He hadn’t yet decided how to handle the Dean thing. Hell, he hadn’t even shown his father in law the investigator’s report yet. He couldn’t imagine where Monroe Styne might have gotten wind of it.

“How do you mean?” he asked stalling for time.

Monroe made an impatient sound, placing a file on Sam’s desk.

“You don’t think I do mah due diligence before deciding where to place mah money?” he asked.

Sam sighed, shoulders slumping as he pulled the file to him and opened it. The very same mug shot that was in Sam’s file. Mr. Styne’s file had more than police reports in it.

“I’m dealing with it.” He said shortly, hoping Mr. Styne would drop it. No such luck.

∞

“Hey Sarah, could you ask Bruce to come see me?”

“Sure thing,” Sarah said picking up her phone.

Sam disappeared into his office closing the door softly behind him even as he closed his eyes. This Dean situation was getting out of hand. He needed to do something. The only problem was, he had no idea _what_ to do. He couldn’t erase him or disown him; that would just make things worse, not better. He needed to bring him in and rehabilitate his image. But it had been fifteen years since they’d been in the same space. He had no idea who Dean was now, or how to get through to him. He knew that he himself had very little in common with that boy he’d been when his brother had known him.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, seeing that it was Jess calling.

“Hello dear,” he said fixing a smile on his face so she could hear it in his voice.

“Hey, you. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, you’re not. You could never. What’s up?”

“Dad called. He wants us to go to his place for dinner tonight. He has some prospects he wants you to meet.”

Sam’s heart sank. He wasn’t really good at schmoozing – but that’s what Jessica was for…

“Yeah? Anyone I might know?”

“He didn’t give any names. But it should be a lay-up. We’ve done this dance so many times.”  
“True,” Sam said his smile becoming real. “Or rather you have.”

“Oh, you help,” Jess teased.

“Yeah, by standing there looking like a tree.”

“A very handsome tree.”

“Aww, Jess, you say the nicest things.”

Jess laughed, “I will see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam hung up with a sigh, his mind returning to his current problem.

Dean Winchester.

A knock distracted him. He moved away from it so he could open the door.

“Bruce. That was fast.” He said to his PI who came in and closed the door gently behind him, leaning casually on it as he faced Sam.

“I was in the building. What do you need Mr. Winchester?”

Sam took a deep breath, “I need you to find out where my brother is.”

Bruce’s eyebrow went up, “I know where he is.”

“You do?” Sam’s voice went high in surprise.

“Yeah. I figured you’d want to know.”

“Okay, where is he?”

“Somewhere in Lebanon, Kansas. I can’t quite pin him down, but he’s been seen buying groceries, and using the Laundromat in the town so I figure he has a base somewhere nearby. He leaves town quite a bit, but last I checked, that’s where he was.”

Sam frowned, wondering if Dean had found some woman and settled down or had actually bought a place. He didn’t see how Dean could afford to do that; not with his record and the fact that he was still hunting. He must have found someone to take him in. That was the only explanation that made sense.  
“Could you find out when he leaves next and give me a general direction?” he asked the PI.

“Sure thing sir.” Bruce nodded and straightened up, “Will that be all?”

“Uh yeah,” Sam said nodding his dismissal. Even after being with Moore, Mathers, and Franklin for ten years, it still felt awkward to order subordinates about. Sometimes the baby of the family that he had been still felt more authentic than the powerful man he’d grown into.


	3. Would You Care for an Aperitif?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Moore, or rather his wife Janet, threw some lavish dinners. He was well known for them and invitations were highly sought after.

Ben Moore, or rather his wife Janet, threw some lavish dinners. He was well known for them and invitations were highly sought after. One never knew who one could meet around the table. Senators, Congressmen, famous singers, authors, even an ex-president or two had graced the Moore guest list at one time or another. They were an extremely well-connected family and Sam never shed the air of disbelief that besieged him from time to time, at how they had taken him in, welcomed him into their world and adopted him as one of their own. It was a role that never really fit his broad shoulders comfortably, but he was determined to be worthy of it by being the best husband and partner the Moores could ever ask for.

Today the dinner had smaller numbers than usual; just five other couples sitting down with them for the meal. Sam smiled and made small talk, answered questions intelligently and flirted lightly with the wives of a senator and a judge. Jessica was working the room like the politician’s wife she was going to be and Sam could not help but admire her poise and grace; thanking God that he had such a phenomenal woman at his side.

_‘We made it. We got out.’ _He said to his fourteen-year-old self, with a satisfied sigh. Now he had just had to work on _believing_ it.

∞

“Mr. Winchester?”

Bruce’s voice was intimate in his ear as he answered the PI’s call.

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Your brother is on the move. The Impala is heading east along I90. Final destination currently unknown. I will keep you posted.”

Sam could feel his heart speeding up. This was it. It was time to face the music he’d been avoiding for fifteen years. He picked up the phone and called his father in law.

“Ben, I have to go out of town urgently,” he said.

“Oh? What’s the emergency?”

“Small matter I gotta take care of,” Sam replied clearing his throat uncomfortably.

There was a small silence, “Okay. Well…try to wrap it up as fast as possible. You have quite the timetable of events before we can even put your name in for consideration.”

“I know. This is actually related _to_ that.”

“Alright then,” Ben said and Sam rang off. He took a deep breath; eyes closed and then fished out his laptop, looking up any weird happenings that had taken place east of Kansas. If Dean was on a hunt, the best way to find him was to find the hunt.

He knocked on the motel room door, heart knocking about in his chest like it wanted to escape and run away. _He_ wanted to escape and run away. He would have done anything not to have to do this.

He knocked again, when there was no answer, taking a deep, shaky, steadying breath trying to relax his shaking hands. He was about to see his brother for the first time in fifteen years and he had no idea what he was going to say.

The door opened a crack, a pale stubbled face appearing; intense green eyes taking him in from the tip of his professionally styled head to the toes of his wing-tipped designer shoes.

Dean Winchester in the flesh.

Sam breathed through his nose, trying to find some equilibrium and then curved his lip in a smile so wide his dimples appeared.

“Dean,” he said on an exhale.

“What do you want?”

His voice was deeper than Sam remembered, with more gravel in it as if he might be a smoker.

“Can I come in?”

“Why?”

Sam giggled nervously, “I don’t know. I thought we might catch up.”

Dean merely raised an eyebrow as if he could not believe Sam had come up with such a weak ass lie. Sam sighed again.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Do we?” the eyebrow stayed up. Sam looked away.

“Okay, correction. _I _need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

“Can I come in please?”

Dean still hesitated before stepping back and opening the door wider. There was a line of salt over the door, Sam stepped over it and saw Dean’s shoulders relax slightly. He raised an eyebrow of his own.

“What? You thought I was a monster?” he asked, seriously surprised. Dean just shrugged, turning to the table and pouring a glass of water for him. He held it out.

“Drink,” he said.

Sam shook his head, “I’m not thirsty but thanks.” He could only imagine where the glasses in this place had been.

“I _said_, drink,” Dean said, his voice low and steely.

Sam dropped his eyes to the glass of clear liquid, wondering what it contained. Clearly, this was some kind of test. He took the glass and drank.

“Happy?” he asked, relieved to taste just water as he handed back the glass. Dean took it wordlessly and put it back down on the table. He folded his arms, turning to face Sam.

“So, talk,” he said.

This wasn’t going well.


	4. It’s Too Much Madness for One Text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So Dean, how are you?”
> 
> “So Sam, why do you suddenly care?”

“So Dean, how are you?”

“So Sam, why do you suddenly care?”

Sam’s mouth opened but nothing came out. “I…just do.”

It was nothing but the truth but he did not expect Dean to believe that. Why would he? Why would someone who claimed to care let fifteen years pass without so much as a phone call? Dean walked to the other end of the room and plopped down into the chair, legs sprawled out in front of him, looking for all intents and purposes like he hadn’t a care in the world. The strength with which he grasped the beer bottle in his hand gave him away though.

“Why don’t you say your piece and leave Sam?” he was looking out the window as he took a sip of his beer. Sam decided to imitate him and walked over to the table, taking the chair opposite Dean.

“Got another one of those?”

Dean turned to glare at him. “No.”

“Really? Dean Winchester ran out of booze?”

His brother narrowed his eyes at Sam. “You calling me an alcoholic?”

“I’m…I…no.” Sam looked anywhere but at Dean, feeling his cheeks bloom with color. He hadn’t been this awkward since puberty, but now he could not seem to shed the awkward. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know if you keep up with my life or not but…I’m running for office.”

Dean snorted derisively and took a sip of his beer. “Congratulations.”

“That means my family is fair game.”

“Huh…well good thing you don’t have any family.”

Sam flinched. He was surprised at how much that hurt. After all this time, he would have thought he was over his family’s rejection. “Regardless of whether you acknowledge me or not, the fact is, the press might dig you up.”

Dean put his beer down, his eyes intent on Sam, “Regardless of whether _I_ acknowledge _you_? Don’t you have that backward, buddy?”


	5. Brother, I am Rehymenated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath and tried to exhale on a word.   
Any word.

Sam’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath and tried to exhale on a word.

Any word.

A word that would stop Dean from looking at him like Sam was shit beneath Dean’s newly cleaned shoe. Sam inadvertently looked down at Dean’s shoes at the thought, unsurprised to see scuffed boots; good protection in all terrains yet light enough to run in.

“I see you’re still hunting…” the words just vomited out of his mouth without his permission.

Dean’s eyebrow went up in the most eloquent ‘duh’ Sam had ever seen.

“Uh, I uh…I got my law degree.”

“I know.”   
That stopped Sam for a minute, “You do?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise. Dean snorted, unfolding his hands and turning away from Sam.

“Just because you threw us away doesn’t mean we did the same, _Sam_.”

“I didn’t-” Sam began indignantly and then bit his lip to stop the words. Fifteen years and Dean could still get to him with a word.

But he was a lawyer now.

A husband.

Not a hormonal teenager.

He could ignore provocation with the best of them.

He was known for it.

Dean Winchester would not take that away from him.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been a lawyer for the past eight years and now I’m branching out…into politics.”

Dean’s eyebrows drew together; he pursed his lips, eyes brightening in realization.

“And you need your problematic brother to disappear,” he said with a sneer.

Dean always had been quick on the uptake.

Sam opened his mouth to say something placatory but Dean got there before him.

“I suppose I could always die,” he said lips turned down in contempt as he watched Sam, “I’ve been declared dead a few times over the years, maybe this time it could stick.”

“Dean I-” Sam began to protest.

“What? Isn’t that why you came?”

Sam just looked at him. Dean snorted soundlessly, turning away, “Get out,” he said.

Sam fished a burner out of his pocket and placed it gently on the table, “If you need to get in touch with me, use this,” he said and then took a step toward the door. Dean waited until he had his hand on the knob before he spoke.

“You not even going to ask about him?” he asked.

“I read your file. Dad was said to have disappeared years ago. I did the math.”  
Dean nodded slowly, lips pursed as he turned to look at Sam, “Okay then,” he said.

Sam hesitated turning the knob but not opening the door.

“What took him out?” he asked eyes on his hand around the doorknob.

“Does it matter?”

“It all matters Dean,” Sam said voice rising with emotion.

“Well then, I guess you should have picked up a phone,” he said.

Sam opened the door and stepped out of it. He closed it gently behind him and walked slowly to the car, barely collapsing into the seat before disintegrating into a shaking sobbing mess.

He sat there for a long time after the tears had dried on his face, simply staring. Night fell as he sat, unmoving, not knowing what to do next. He hadn’t felt this helpless since his father had thrown him out all those years ago and set him on the path he was on now. Now he was at another crossroads, and he had no idea which way to turn. A knocking on his window startled him and for a fleeting instant, he regretted that he didn’t carry a weapon. He turned his head, taking a deep breath, ready for anything, to see his brother peering in at him, a smirk on his face. He lowered the window, looking at Dean in inquiry.

“Did you forget how to get back home?” Dean asked mouth twisted.

_Home_.

An interesting concept.

He remembered when the black muscle car Dean was clearly still driving had been the only real home he knew. Sometimes, that kid he’d been then was many times more immediate than the man he was now.

Where was home_ now?_

Was it Jessica?

Was it the opulent hills of Calabasas where his cozy five- bedroomed, four-bathroom house sat on five lush green acres. Hell, they even had a small orange orchard whose fruit was used to make their Sunday morning mimosas. He hadn’t had to worry about knowing a thing about cars in almost two decades.

It wasn’t a required skill set.

The only fake IDs he saw were the ones he confiscated from the children of his affluent clients when he went to bail them out on early Sunday mornings after they’d taken the partying a little too far and gotten themselves arrested. He didn’t even know why he bothered. They would have new fake IDs by the following weekend. Hell, Sam even knew where exactly they got them. It wasn’t his business though. They weren’t _his_ kids.

He and Jessica had tried for five years before they decided to put the possibility of children behind them. What with Sam’s long work hours and Jessica’s social life, they didn’t really have time for kids anyway.

At least that’s what they told themselves to cover the disappointment of each failed pregnancy test. Sam knew that it was him.

_He_ was the problem.

He didn’t say so to Jess, and she never said a word about it to him. But he knew.

So he had the letters after his name, he had Jess and her family and he had the possibility of representing the good people of California as their governor. If he couldn’t take care of his own kids, he could at least take care of constituents.

The only thing standing between him and victory was Dean Winchester.

He looked up at his brother.

“What did you mean by ‘kill yourself’?” he asked.

Dean snorted, “Don’t worry Sam; I ain’t actually going to kill myself.” He rolled his eyes, straightening up from where he’d been leaning against Sam’s car. He slapped the roof of the car, “So go on, get outta here.”

Sam just sat, staring up at him.

He remembered when Dean was the entirety of Sam’s world. His mother, his father, his brother, his best friend, his guardian angel, the source of his safety. He’d left all that behind when he left; it was the only thing he regretted about that fraught time. That the fallout with his father meant that he lost Dean as well. Of course, he didn’t show it. He’d turned his back on them both like he really didn’t care.

He did though.

A lot.

“Hey, since you’re gonna be dead and all, can I buy you one more drink before you cease to exist?”

Sam didn’t even know the words coming out of his mouth. It was just diarrhea he could take no responsibility for. Dean was looking at him like maybe he’d left his marbles in Calabasas. Maybe he had, Sam didn’t know. He just knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. Not again.

He’d fought with his father and never seen him again. Never _would_ see him again.

Very likely he wouldn’t see _Dean_ again after today.

It was closure he wanted.

Sam nodded to himself, finally able to put a name to the burning ball of discontent in his chest.

It was closure he needed.

That’s all.

“What do you say?” he asked Dean.

His brother shrugged, “Long as you buyin’,” he said and walked around to let himself into the passenger side.

Suddenly, Sam felt lighter than he had in years.


	6. And You Were a Goofy-Lookin Kid Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar they chose wasn’t one of Dean’s usual haunts. But then he figured this Sam would not want to be seen anywhere near such places.

The bar they chose wasn’t one of Dean’s usual haunts. But then he figured this Sam would not want to be seen anywhere near such places. He flashed his money around like it was a ticket to heaven – and who knew? Maybe it was. Dean looked away, not really interested in mapping the myriad ways ‘his’ Sammy had disappeared into the stuffy corporate suit that sat opposite him. Dean watched Sam surreptitiously, noting that he hadn’t lost the nervous habit of jigging his foot when nervous. Also, his hair was ridiculous. Did they not have barbers in California?

“So, did you not find someone you could trust to cut your shimmering locks Rapunzel?” he was teasing before he could really think about it.

Sam looked startled for a moment, then almost smiled and then looked down, picked up his bottle, drank from it and choked.

Dean couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. Sam watched him for a few minutes before joining in.

_This is ridiculous._ Sam straightened up in his seat, watching the light in Dean’s eyes, trying his level best not to think about how much he had missed his brother - how much he missed being seen; all of him. Dean was the only person on the planet who knew every part of him.

Well…nearly every part of him. He had no idea what Sam had been up to for the last fifteen years. The thought brought him up short; he had lived without Dean for almost half his life. Yet it felt like…minutes. The boy that he had been then…so self-righteous, full of conviction and the surety of being right; he had turned his back on his family without a second thought. Suddenly he didn’t understand why it had taken so long to reconnect.

“Actually, I found someone who appreciates my shimmering locks.”

“Really? Like to pull on them in the sack, do they? Call you Samantha?”

Sam snorted. That was such a typical Dean answer that for a moment he thought he’d look down to see that he was still a gangly youth, still trying to grow into his height with no bigger hero than the man before him. It was as if no time had passed at all.

“Dean.” the word simply escaped his lips as it was wont to do without his permission. His brother looked away, taking a sip of his drink.

“Never mind Sam. This was nice. This was great. But we should go now. You should go. Got a campaign to get back to, right?”

Sam frowned, wondering why Dean was suddenly pushing him away. “My plane leaves in the morning.”

“Then you should get a good night’s sleep, Sammy.” Dean got to his feet and with one last, long look at Sam, he walked away.

Sam watched him go incredulously.

“What even was that?” he asked no one. To nobody’s surprise, no one replied.


	7. You Might Be God but You Can Go to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sat at his desk, shuffling his butt from side to side, trying to get comfortable. For some reason, nothing fit. His desk was too large, too pretentious.

Sam sat at his desk, shuffling his butt from side to side, trying to get comfortable. For some reason, nothing fit. His desk was too large, too pretentious. His suit was too shiny yet for all its silky softness he was uncomfortable in it. The luxurious leather chair did not cradle him as comfortably as it normally did. Everything was out of sync.

He stood up with relief when he was summoned to his father in law’s office, to meet with his new publicist. Plans to kick off the campaign were in high gear and Sam was supposed to make his announcement after a lecture he was giving at Stanford U. It was supposed to be a full circle story; the place that made him who he was would launch his political career. What could possibly be better?

He glanced at his desk drawer, where a burner phone, a twin to the one he gave Dean, rested. No calls had come through and there was no reason to expect one. Still, he could not stop himself from feeling on edge...waiting...waiting...waiting.

He snorted to himself. “You’re so pathetic.” he murmured, taking care to keep his madness under his breath where no one else could hear. For some reason, he felt abandoned by his brother. Fifteen years of no contact. No desire for contact. But now that he had seen Dean again, it was all he could do not to run screaming to Lebanon. To demand that his brother pay attention to him again. That his brother look at him like he always had; as if Sam were the center of his world. He could not stand to be dismissed.

Not by Dean.

Dean was the only one-

He cut that thought off with the same ruthlessness he usually reserved for the courtroom. He had worked hard not to be that boy anymore. He would not go there again.

***

“|Will that be all Mr. Winchester?” Bruce asked as she stood up to leave.

Sam hesitated, _knowing he_ shouldn’t bring this up. “Have you heard anything about Dean?”

Bruce hesitated, “You mean after he went out in a blaze of glory, in that tragic car accident a few months ago?”

Sam frowned, not liking the way Bruce was talking about this brother as if he were some show pony that had executed a difficult stunt on its first try. “Yes, I mean since then.”

Bruce shook his head. “Nope, all quiet on that front. He and his partner are living quietly off the grid lives.”

Sam froze, looking up at Bruce in shock. “Wait. What? A partner? You didn't say anything about a partner!”

Bruce seemed surprised at his agitation, going so far as to lift a decadent eyebrow. “A Mr. Benny Lafitte sir. They seem to live _and_ work together.

Sam just stared blankly. “You didn’t say anything about a partner.”

“I didn’t know it was important.”

Sam snapped back to himself in a trice. “No, of course, you didn’t. Why would you? I’m sorry, it’s just a shock.”

Bruce nodded, giving him another dubious look. “Well…I’ll just go then, shall I?”

Sam nodded jerkily. “Uh yeah.”

He turned away from Bruce, still reeling at the thought of Dean having a ‘partner’. Who was this guy and why hadn’t Dean mentioned him? He looked down at his phone as if a message or phone call would miraculously appear.

But there was nothing.

He almost decided to call Dean and demand answers but realized, just in time, how much he was acting like a jilted lover rather than a family member who hadn’t bothered to keep in touch for fifteen years. This Benny guy was probably another hunter. Which was a good thing because it meant Dean wasn’t hunting alone.

Except…

Dean _had _been alone when Sam pulled up on him at the hotel. He hadn’t asked his brother what case he was working so maybe it had been an easy one and he didn’t need a partner.

Still…

Dean could have said something about a partner. Why was it such a secret?

He sat back, laptop screen abandoned as he tried to think if they’d ever met or heard of a Benny while he was with Dean. He shook his head slowly as nothing came to mind. Suddenly his phone was in his hand and he was dialing. He listened as the phone rang and rang and rang. No one picked up on the other end and Dean’s voice was telling him to leave a message.

Who even left voicemail messages in this day and age?

Sam huffed, annoyed at everything from the existence of voicemails to Dean living with some _stranger_ Sam didn’t know. He shot to his feet and walked out of the room.

“Mr. Winchest-?” his secretary began to say before he was blowing past her without a word. He was jumping in his SUV and heading out of town before he could think better of it. Not that he was _going_ to think better. It was one thing for him to lose touch because life happened, but this deliberate break…it didn’t feel right.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he thought maybe Dean had called him back so he fished it out.

_Jessica calling…_

Sam stared at the phone, knowing he should get it but unable to make himself do it. If he picked up she would have questions he couldn’t answer.

_What am I doing?_

He absolutely did not know.


	8. We’re Not in Kansas Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The residents of Lebanon were remarkably close-mouthed about Dean. Nothing worked; Sam couldn’t exactly pretend to be an FBI agent. Not when he was planning to run for office.

The residents of Lebanon were remarkably close-mouthed about Dean. Nothing worked; Sam couldn’t exactly pretend to be an FBI agent. Not when he was planning to run for office. Someone might recognize him. On the other hand, he couldn’t claim to be Dean’s brother – he was running for office, that sort of thing could bite him in the ass.

So he was left with the option of needing help – the kind of help only Dean could give him. The people he asked didn’t seem to know much about that. That wasn’t at all surprising. Their father had raised them to say nothing about what they did. Sam pushed the thought of his father away and tried to think about what to do next.

He’d tried calling the burner he’d given Dean but that was already disconnected. He cursed at himself, wondering why he hadn’t thought of this before. They should have arranged something in case one needed to talk to the other. Of course, _Dean_ knew exactly where he was if he ever needed to talk to Sam. It was only he who was in the dark as to how to get in touch with Dean.

He sighed, deciding to drive around on the outskirts of the town. Maybe he’d get lucky and spot the impala parked in a driveway.

_Thank heavens for the Impala…_he thought with real gratitude. Everyone he spoke to might have been reticent about Dean, but they all knew about the black muscle car he drove with reckless abandon. The lady in the post office had clicked her tongue with worry about Dean one day getting himself killed with the way he drove. She had, however, declined to give Dean a message from Sam if she saw him again.

“I don’t know where he lives,” she claimed.

“Yes, but when he comes for his mai-” he’d tried to say.

“Oh, he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t own a post office box here.” She told him serenely. He’d blown his breath out in frustration and barely remembered to thank her as he left.

_‘Did Dean tell them to stonewall me like this?’_ he wondered, ‘D_id he know I would come?’_

He felt paranoid and crazy just thinking it. After all, why would Dean do that? How would he even know that Sam would come? On the other hand, that small insecure child who was always being left behind by his father and brother was insistent that Dean _had _told them to stonewall him. That he’d made them swear in the blood of their ancestors that they would never tell him where to find Dean.

His foot crashed down on the brakes and the car squealed coming to a stop just before it would have plowed into a man standing in the middle of the road. Sam’s heart was jackhammering in his chest. Why would anyone…? Was the man suicidal or what?

Sam opened the door, shooting out of the car ready to give the man a piece of his mind. Quicker than Sam could blink, the man had moved from the front of Sam’s SUV and right into his personal space, staring up at Sam with unblinking azure blue eyes. Even without the superhuman speed, there was something about this man that made Sam want to take a step back. Only there was nowhere to go unless he meant to step back into his car and drive off.

“What’re you doing here?” the man _demanded_ as if he had any right to know.

“I…beg your pardon? Who are you and what do you-” Sam was bitterly regretting that he’d fallen out of the habit of carrying a weapon on his person. He did not know what could kill this thing – hell he didn’t even know what it was – but a bullet to the brain might slow it down…unless it was a demon. He didn’t smell sulfur though. He tried to recall the words to an exorcism but nothing immediately came to mind. He was so fucked.

“Name’s Benny,” the man said. He clearly expected Sam to know the name and it was that, rather than the name itself, which made him suspect that this was Dean’s Benny. His…’ partner’.

_But how can that be? This…thing…is not human._

Sam’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “What are you?”

“None of your goddamned business.” Benny replied without blinking, “Now, what are you doing here? Don’t you think you’ve hurt your brother enough?”

Sam did step back then, involuntarily, bumping against the roof of the SUV in his extreme surprise. “Hurt him? I don’t know what you mean.”

“’ Course you don’t. Baby brother Sammy just does whatever he wants and damn the consequences to anyone else.”

Sam’s heart twisted with pain on hearing his pet name on this thing’s lips. Clearly, it was quoting Dean.

_Is this what Dean really thinks of me?_

Sam was honestly surprised at how much it hurt. He wanted to double over and groan, the pain was like a knife in his gut. What had he ever done to make Dean think that? Instead, he schooled his features into a blank mask of indifference. “If Dean has something to say to me, he can say it himself.”

The thing scoffed. “Yeah, not happening. Now, why don’t you just turn this pretentious gas guzzler right around and go back to your cushy life?”

“Are you going to make me?”

The thing laughed. “Nah. Go on then. Drive around to your heart’s content. You won’t find him.” It stepped back, spreading its arms in a ‘go on’ gesture. Sam wanted to kill him.

“Would you give Dean a message for me?” he tried.

“No.”

“Tell him I won’t leave. Tell him I want to speak to him and if he wants to get rid of me, that’s the only way he does it.”

Benny laughed. “Don’t you have a campaign to conduct? What is this about?”

Sam shrugged. “Tell Dean. I’m sure he knows where to find me.”

Sam got into his SUV, turning the car around. He’d seen a charming B&B not too far from the center of town. He would check in there and then…it was probably time to call Jess and explain. Only thing was, he had no idea what he would say.


	9. Here Comes the Plot Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam woke up in the morning to find a bunch of black SUVs parked outside his door. For a moment, he thought that maybe Jess had tracked him down and had whipped up the cavalry to come and collect him. But if that were so, wouldn’t she be knocking angrily on his door?

Sam woke up in the morning to find a bunch of black SUVs parked outside his door. For a moment, he thought that maybe Jess had tracked him down and had whipped up the cavalry to come and collect him. But if that were so, wouldn’t she be knocking angrily on his door?

Eight days of waiting for some sign of Dean had taken its toll. The feeling of rejection grew stronger every minute. Last night, he had gotten to bed late, having decided to drown his sorrows in the bar across the street. It was lucky no one recognized him; sure he was far from home but he’d been on TV a few times. First, for winning cases and then when rumors started swirling about his potential run for mayor.

But this was Middle America and so maybe it wasn’t just blind luck that no one had recognized him. What would they care about some West-Coast politician here? Having come to that realization, Sam had taken leave of his senses and drank the entire bar.

Now his hotel room was surrounded by some serious cars and he did not have enough wits about him to deal with it.

Three steady knocks on the door had him struggling to his feet. His money was still on Jess or perhaps, Bruce being on the other side of the door. He stumbled toward it, trying to rub some life into his face as he swung the door open.

He opened his mouth, apology ready before realizing that there was a total stranger at his door. He froze, cursing his own stupidity as he wondered whether these were paparazzi.

“Mr. Sam Winchester…what a pleasure to make your acquaintance…at last.” The man was short and balding, dressed in a black Armani suit. His shoes were spit-shined to the nth degree and his expression could only be described as smug. Sam towered over him and he frowned, wondering what this short, bearded idiot could have to feel so proud of.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said smoothly.

The man looked back at what Sam realized were two henchmen, standing on either side of him and a step behind. His face was alive with amusement.

“You have me at a disadvantage, he said,” the man told his mates in a very smarmy British accent as he grinned. Sam formed an immediate dislike for him. He drew himself up to his full height.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded.

The man looked down at Sam’s feet for some reason. Then he snorted. “Really? You’ve gone full civilian, have you? Not even the basics like laying down salt lines?” the man stepped confidently over the threshold pushing Sam back. Too late, Sam realized that this thing was not human. He dived immediately for his bag, where he had a firearm but before he could reach it, it flew across the room.

“Ah ah, naughty naughty. I just want to talk.”

The thing brushed off the chair, before sitting down on it with a moue of distaste. “Is this any way for an aspiring mayor to live? Honestly, my hellhounds have better housing.”

Sam tried to creep across the room but the man pointed at him and he froze in place, effectively hog-tied.

“Now, Sam Winchester, you should relax. I mean you no harm. I simply mean to hold you hostage…as leverage so Dean and his pet vampire can do as I’ve been asking for the _past three years_!”

The man’s, no the thing’s voice got louder with every word and Sam could have stabbed himself for being so careless.

“I must admit, I had no idea you were still alive. Thanks for the heads up, by the way. That news article talking about the ‘tragic death’ of your brother Dean is what clued me in.” the thing leaned in conspiratorially, “Good political move, that. You don’t want the likes of Dean Winchester mucking up your campaign. Hey, I’d vote for you.”

Sam wondered if the guy ever shut up.

Suddenly, one of the thing’s minions in the doorway lit up like Christmas lights before collapsing on the floor, the acrid scent of Sulphur filling the room. As he fell to the ground, Dean was revealed, a grimace on his face and a wicked-looking knife in his hand. Next to him, Benny had the second minion in his clutches and they were fighting hard. Dean spared a moment to plunge the knife into the second minion before stepping into the room even before Benny had let the body go.

Suddenly Sam was free to move again and the thing that had been sitting in the chair had disappeared.

“Oh for Pete’s sake!” Dean sounded supremely irritated but not the slightest bit afraid.

Sam got slowly to his feet. “What. The hell. Was that?”

Dean looked around the room before turning to Sam. “Really? Not even a salt line? Did Dad and I teach you _nothing_?”

Sam had the grace to look shamefaced.


	10. Bunking Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam was feeling a little…resentful. What right did Dean have to treat him like a recalcitrant child when it was his fault that Sam had been left vulnerable to attack?

Sam was feeling a little…resentful. What right did Dean have to treat him like a recalcitrant child when it was _his_ fault that Sam had been left vulnerable to attack? If he had simply shown up the day Sam asked him to, none of this would have happened.

Now Dean and his non-human…_partner_ had dragged him to a bunker underground…it looked like some post-apocalyptic film set for the terminator movies complete with an ancient computer, uncomfortable old furniture, an armory, and a fridge stockpiled with enough food to feed Dean alone for a year.

There was also a freezer filled with blood bags…for Benny – the _vampire_. Sam hadn’t even known that vampires existed and now Dean was hunting with one?

“So what did Dad think about your new _partner_?” he asked his brother as Dean showed him to a monk-like room that he said Sam would sleep in. Dean ignored the question, pointing out the location of the showers if Sam wanted one.

“Really Dean? This is how it’s gonna be?” Sam called after him as his brother walked away without answering a single one of his questions. Dean continued walking. Didn’t so much as flinch. “How long do I have to stay here?” Sam shouted after him.

That got Dean to stop. “As long as you have to.”

“I have a campaign to get back to!” he protested.

Dean turned around, something like a sneer twisting his mouth. “You’re more worried about getting back to your _campaign _than you are your wife? You wanted a _tête-à-tête_ with me? Well congratulations, you got it.”

_Tête-à-tête? Since when did Dean use such three-dollar words?_

Sam watched Dean walk away, tempted to call after him and say that they hadn’t exactly had a face to face. But he was tired. The events of the morning had taken a lot out of him. He felt as if he could use a shower after all. A shower and a nap. Then he would think about what to do next.

***

“He asleep?”

“Yeah.” Dean shook his head, quirking his lips as he met the vamp’s eyes. “Fifteen years he’s been away and nothing’s changed. He’s still the same whiny bitch he always was.”

Benny gave him an understanding smile. “And you love him just the same.”

Dean snorted. “Unfortunately.”

Benny straightened up from his slouch, handing Dean the beer he’d retrieved for him. “So? What now? We keep him imprisoned here forever?”

“Nah, just till Crowley forgets about him. There’s not exactly witness protection from hell.”

Benny smirked in agreement. “And not like he’d agree to leave his cushy life and go anyway.”

Dean inhaled deeply, blinking at Benny in agreement.

“We’re gonna have to come up with some story for the wife and her family. Your brother’s a big deal in Hollywoodlandia. They ain’t just gonna ignore his disappearance.”

Dean narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “He could have a tragic death of his own…”

Benny moved off from the long table where he’d parked half his ass and walked toward Dean, “Hey, your brother might agree to that…but that guy ain’t that. That guy is an aspiring senator and former or current douchebag lawyer complete with tightass political family.”

Dean huffed an unamused laugh. “Don’t I know it.”

“So? Plan B?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, man. Why couldn’t he just have stayed gone?”

***

Sam stumbled back to his room, his mind reeling. He’d felt thirsty and gone in search of water when he heard his brother and…the vampire…discussing him in such callous terms.

_Witness protection from hell? What does that even mean?_

He actively avoided thinking about how much Dean’s words hurt – no, they weren’t even his words but he’d agreed that Sam was essentially not his brother. If he looked at it objectively, he maybe couldn’t blame Dean for feeling like that…but if there was one person in the world he _could not_ be objective about, it was Dean motherfucking Winchester.


	11. Charlie Foxtrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam waited until he couldn’t hear any noises or movement. According to his Patek Philippe timepiece, it was 2 am.

Sam waited until he couldn’t hear any noises or movement. According to his Patek Philippe timepiece, it was 2 am. He was rather surprised that Dean went to bed so early and he wasn’t sure but he thought vampires were nocturnal?

He ventured slowly out of his room, looking around, listening for sounds.

There was nothing.

He crept slowly down the corridor, keeping an ear out. When he arrived at the cavernous hall lined with books he paused, looking around. There were some open books on the table, a laptop and an empty glass next to a bottle of whiskey that was mostly finished. He reached for the book, turning it over to see the title.

_A treatise of demonology? Since when does Dean read treatises?_

Maybe it was the vampire that was reading it. Dean had always hated research.

He moved over to one wall, looking over the books. One of them caught his eye and he bent over to peer closer.

The Knights of the Round Table.

Sam stared.

His mind went back to his childhood, lying in bed while Dean sat on the edge, reading to him. He reached out and fished it from the shelf, going to sit in the leather armchair wedged into the corner and opened the book.

Tears poured from his eyes as he read.

_Dean._

He didn’t even know why he was grieving for a brother who was _right there_. Well, …he knew why. He grieved the closeness they had lost; the absolute unconditional love that Dean had always shown him. He’d taken it for granted for so long…never expected that he would have to miss it because it was gone. And now here they were. Sam leaned back in the seat, ignoring the tears in his eyes as he stared up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling.

_What even is my life?_ He absently ran a hand up and down his chest as he really thought about it for once. He was living in an artificial bubble where people pretended _all the time_. He and Jess pretended that they were fine with not having kids, _he_ pretended he didn’t have a brother who had meant _everything_ to him, Jess’ parents pretended that they hadn’t preferred her to marry someone more ‘suitable’. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions and he’d been sleepwalking through his own life for years.

He couldn’t believe how many years he’d been sleepwalking.

Being in Dean’s presence for five minutes had woken him right up and _that _was why he could not put his brother in the rearview again.

His chest ached with a sharp, agonizing, stabbing pain as he acknowledged these truths.

He huffed a wet laugh blinking to clear the blurriness from his eyes. _So_ literally _the truth hurts_.

“What are you doing up?”

Sam jerked in startlement, looking toward the sound. The vampire was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed. Sam couldn’t help putting a hand to his chest in startlement.

“I…couldn’t sleep.”

“Mmm.” The vampire straightened up, “wanna come join us? Dean is not fun to play foosball with anymore. He knows all my moves.”

“W-what?” Sam furrowed his brow, extremely confused.

Benny laughed and waved Sam over. “Come on, stop sitting alone here in the dark like some creeper. Let’s play foosball.” He began walking down the hall, and Sam only hesitated for a moment before following him.


	12. Circling the Drain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean looked up as they entered a room straight out of an eighties sitcom what with the neon flashing lights, a foosball table and several arcade video games lining one wall.

Dean looked up as they entered a room straight out of an eighties sitcom what with the neon flashing lights, a foosball table and several arcade video games lining one wall. On the other wall, was a pool table against which Dean currently leaned, cue stick in hand.

“Sammy. I thought you’d be resting. Don’t you value your beauty sleep?”

Sam hesitated, knowing that Dean was needling him but unsure whether to respond in kind or not. Just a split second too long to be natural, he lifted his hand and flicked at his hair, letting it swing around like an L’Oréal commercial. “Jealous Dean?” he asked as his too long tresses settled around his face again.

“Nope. You’ve always been the family Disney princess. I’m more of the superhero.”

Sam grinned, remembering that time he’d broken his arm following Dean’s ‘superhero’ batman off the roof.

“What you smilin’ at?” Dean furrowed his brows suspiciously and Sam wiped the grin off his face.

“Nothing. Wanna play?”

Dean’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You still play?”

Sam grabbed a cue stick. “No, but it’s like riding a bicycle right?”

Dean just snorted.

***

Sam looked up to find that it was just him and Dean in the playroom. Benny had disappeared. Dean was _beating his ass_ at pool but he was having too much fun to complain. He’d already lost all the cash he had on him, his Cartier watch and now they were playing for his belt.

“If we’re not careful, this is gonna become strip pool,” he said without thinking. Dean seemed to smolder at him and Sam couldn’t help blushing.

_Why did I blush though?_

The thought flashed through his mind as he prepared to hit – and miss – the cue ball. He really hadn’t played since he was a first-year in college, missing home and Dean and trying to somehow bring them closer by hustling at pool. He’d forgotten that he was on his own, that there was no one to watch his back. He’d ended up at the hospital with three broken ribs thankful that Stanford had a medical cover for its students. He’d never entered a pool hall again, too afraid of compromising his education – his way out. Now all these years later, he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d thought he’d been escaping.

He straightened up, regarding Dean thoughtfully.

“What?” Dean said without looking up from studying the pool table.

“Nothing. I just…”

Dean waited, still looking down but when Sam didn’t say another word, he looked up and they stared at each other. Sam shook his head his face constipated with the words he couldn’t find. Dean nodded as if he understood everything Sam hadn’t said and Sam’s shoulders sagged under the weight of relief and nostalgia. Nobody else had ever been able to read him the way that Dean did.

Dean looked around. “Where’d Benny go?”

Sam shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t care less but the man _had _invited him to spend time with Dean…and then thoughtfully disappeared to give them some alone time.

“Yo Benny!” Dean called.

There was no answer.

He put down his cue stick and walked out the door, much to Sam’s disappointment. Still, he put down his own stick and followed Dean out, reluctantly willing to help him find Benny if that was what he wanted.

“Where’s his room?” he asked Dean who shot him a frowning glance before walking down a random corridor. He stopped at a door and knocked, but there was no answer.

“Benny!”

Getting no reply, Dean tried the door handle. It opened without issue and he walked into an empty room. He looked around as if expecting Benny to appear before turning to Sam. “Where’d he go?”

Sam just shrugged wondering why Dean was even asking him. There was no way he could know such a thing. Dean dug out his phone and hit speed dial, putting the phone to his ear. Down the corridor, the way they’d come, a phone began to ring. They both turned, walking towards the playroom and stopped in the doorway.

Benny’s phone was on the floor.

They stared at it, and then at each other in some surprise.

“This is weird, right?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded slowly, “Very.”

“So? What do we do?”

Dean walked forward and then around the phone like an answer to the mystery might reveal itself if he stared hard enough. “It’s like he disappeared and the phone dropped out of his hand.”

“Or teleported,” Sam grinned, “can he do that?”

Dean fixed him with a look™ and Sam realized he hadn’t been joking.

“He can’t do that, can he?”

“No!” Dean sounded quite pissed.

“So uh…what do we do? EMF meter?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s a place to start.”

He led the way to his room which, whoa, Sam had not expected would be decorated in such a fashion; with all sorts of weapons on the wall and a picture of mom on the bedside table. If asked, he didn’t think he had preconceived ideas of what Dean’s room would look like if he had one; but this definitely wasn’t it.

Dean handed him an EMF meter and a sword-like knife before leading the way back to the playroom. Sam was too busy staring at the sword knife, which seemed to emit a sort of unearthly light, to really pay attention to what was happening until he realized that the room was quiet. Too quiet.

The EMF meters hadn’t gone off.

“I suppose whatever it was, it was not a ghost.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Sam took a deep breath, not yet comfortable with this Dean to joke back. “Uh, you wanna uh…go search for him?”

“Nah…it’s late. We’ll wait until morning.”

“Uh okay…” Sam waited for Dean to say anything else but he just continued to stand there frowning. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it.” He tried to comfort his big brother.

“Yeah…sure,” Dean said absently, the furrow on his forehead getting no less furrowed. Sam reached out a hand, tentatively, wondering if his touch would even be welcome. Slowly, he lowered his hand onto Dean’s arm and squeezed. His brother took no notice.

“Dean?” he whispered.

“Go to bed, Sam.” It was an order, not a request and even after fifteen years, Sam’s first instinct was to obey. He took a step and then stopped.

“You won’t go looking for him without me, will you?”

Dean turned to gaze at him his lips grimly stretching into a bitter smile. “Afraid of being left behind Sammy? I thought that was what you wanted.”

Sam narrowed his already narrow eyes at Dean. “That’s not fair, Dean.”

“Oh yeah. Newsflash Sammy, life isn’t fair.”

Sam crossed his fingers, inclining his head defensively. “You wanna do this now, Dean? Okay fine. Let’s do it.”

Dean snorted. “Do it. Do what? Rehash years of bullshit? Or maybe you wanna explain why it was absolutely necessary for you to disappear from our lives for fifteen years huh? I don’t give a fuck. My friend is missing and all I wanna do is find him.”

Each word was like an arrow in Sam’s heart and with each word, he grew more defensive. “Yeah okay then. Just quit with the passive-aggressive shit then. You wanna find your friend. Let’s find him.”

Dean just glared before walking out of the room.

***

Sam wasn’t about to let Dean go anywhere on his own. He dogged his footsteps as he walked into the biggest, oldest garage Sam had ever seen, populated with vintage cars…and the Impala. It was funny to think that at forty years old, the Impala was the youngest model in this place. Sam’s curiosity was piqued. He really needed to find time to ask Dean all about this bunker and how exactly he’d come to be living in it.

Right now though, he was determined to get in the passenger seat before Dean drove off without him.

Sam dug out his phone from his pocket, going straight into research mode as if no time had passed at all. He stared at the phone wondering what to google before hitting the type tab.

**Strange disappearances in Lebanon Kansas**.

He froze, watching the number of replies that came up. He clicked on Twitter, and read posts from people asking what was going on. From what he could see, Benny wasn’t the only person who had suddenly disappeared.

He clicked reply on one tweet and asked, **about what time did your brother disappear?**

He thought he’d have to wait a while for a reply but the guy was there at once.

**He was sleeping in the bed next to me. One minute he was there, the next he just…like…dissolved.**

**Dissolved? Like, how?**

**Like…DISSOLVED!**

**Where are you?**

**Yeah, like I’m gonna tell YOU.**

**I’m in Lebanon Kansas.**

**Lawrence. I’m in Lawrence Kansas.**

Sam sighed, closing his eyes, wondering if this was some kind of…his mind flashed back to a time he preferred to forget. A time full of visions; things happening to people he didn’t know that he nevertheless dreamt about. Things happening in that house in Lawrence…

_Please God let this not be part of that._

“What?” Dean asked. Just as much of a mind reader as he’d ever been.

“Uh…other people have disappeared too.”

“Disappeared? How’d you mean?”

“My Twitter feed is full of people reporting their friends, lovers, family just…dissolving.”

The car swerved as Dean shot him an incredulous glance. He righted it, and then turned to look at Sam with a look that said, “Explain.”

“Stop the car then.”

Dean opened his mouth as if to protest but then thought better of it and gently nudged the car toward the shoulder of the road and parked. He turned to look at Sam who simply handed him his phone.

“There’s even a hashtag. #disappearingpeople they’re calling it. Seems to be happening all over.”

Dean continued scrolling without a word.


	13. #Disappearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wanted to take Sam back to the bunker and leave him there where he was ‘safe’…as if Benny hadn’t disappeared from right in front of them there.

Dean wanted to take Sam back to the bunker and leave him there where he was ‘safe’…as if Benny hadn’t disappeared from right in front of them there.

“I’m not leaving you, Dean!” Sam shouted, his heart beating in his throat at the thought of his brother disappearing too.

“I need to summon somebody, Sam. And I don’t want you anywhere near me when I do it.”

“Tough. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He grabbed at Dean’s belt just to make the point, just the way he used to do when he was ten and Dean wanted to go off to the mall without him.

Dean sighed. “You ran off to get away from this shit,” he said as if Sam needed reminding.

Sam just glared.

“Fine. Keep your mouth shut. Stay out of range.” He said plucking Sam’s hand from his belt and pointing at the corner of the – empty – drug store. They had encountered one or two people in the town of Lebanon but the pharmacist was not one of them. Dean had decided to use the space for his summoning since there was a nice wide space between the shelves and the counter. He retrieved a few things from the boot of the Impala and then he was ready to do his thing. Sam stood between two aisles, watching him intently for any sign that he might start to dissolve.

Dean put some foul-smelling ingredients in an old clay bowl and then he was cutting himself to bleed on it. He said some words in Latin and then stood up and waited.

“Really Dean? I warned you this would happen if you didn’t get those stones for me.” A short man wearing an Armani suit stood in the ring that Dean had drawn. It was the same man who had attacked Sam in his hotel room.

“Did you do this, Crowley? Is this some kind of test?”

Crowley raised his hand in seeming innocence, “This isn’t me! This is exactly what I was trying to prevent when I told you to get me those stones.”

“Yeah sure. I believe you. Where’s Benny!?”

Crowley shrugged. “I suppose he’s wherever everyone else is.”

“And where’s that?”

Crowley shrugged again.

“How do I get him back?”

“Get me those stones.”

Dean snorted. “You’re funny Crowley. Which part of ‘I don’t work for the King of the Crossroads’ didn’t you get?”

Crowley shifted from one foot to the other, clearly frustrated. “Think of it as me being the lesser of two evils. You _don’t_ want to deal with this other guy.”

“Just tell me who he is and where I can find him.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he controls time. He can be any _where_, any _when_ he pleases. You can’t keep up.”

“If you’re so sure I can’t keep up; why do you keep hounding me to bring you the stones.”

“Because you have something he wants.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Crowley’s eyes shifted and landed on Sam. “You have the antichrist.”

Dean turned to look at Sam, his eyes hard and cold. Sam’s heart sunk, wondering if Dean meant to…

“No,” Dean said with finality. “Not Sam. _Never_ Sam.”

Sam’s body felt liquid as if relief had dissolved every bone in his body.

“Well then. Say goodbye to Benny. And half the population of the planet while you’re at it. Now let me out of this contraption.” Crowley said pointing down at the drawing.

Dean reached forward and scraped a bit of paint away, breaking the circle. The thing – Crowley – disappeared.

“Dean-” Sam began.

“Shut up. I’m thinking.”

Sam kept quiet, but with difficulty. Eventually, Dean turned, walking toward Sam, his eyes accusing. “Look, man, I know every lawyer is supposed to be like the devil, but please tell me you don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Dean stared at him, searching his eyes. Whatever he was looking for he must have found because his whole body relaxed.

“You can’t go home; you know that right?”

Sam nodded slowly, realizing that in all the drama, he had _forgotten to call home_. He could not believe that the thought of Jess, of whether she was in existence or not had not crossed his mind. All his focus was on keeping Dean in sight; making sure his brother didn’t disappear. He dug out his phone, a little frantically, and made the call.

“Sam?”

“J-Jess?”

“Sam…they’re all gone. My dad, my…” her voice was broken.

“I…” Sam did not have words.

“Sam, I need you. I thought you were gone too. I called, you didn’t answer.”

“Uh…my phone died.”

“Your _phone died_? Where are you?”

“I…I’m gonna fix this Jess, I promise, I’ll fix it.”

“What do you mean, _you’ll fix it_?”

“I have to go, Jess.” He said and heard her shouting his name as he hung up on her. Dean was simply staring at him. Sam looked up, meeting his eyes.

“It had to be done,” Dean said.

“So…I’m the antichrist?”

Dean laughed in soft disbelief. “If you’re the antichrist I must be an angel.”

Sam shrugged. “I could see you in that role.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. “Uh-huh. Listen…”

“I have a plan,” Sam interrupted.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean; I’m not turning you over to this guy in exchange for him bringing everyone back.”

“How do you know I was gonna say that?”

Dean snorted. “What _don’t_ I know about you, kid?”

The instinct to protest while a warm feeling suffused his chest warred inside of Sam. He ended up just turning away so that Dean couldn’t see his smile.

“Hey uh…Dean,” he said quietly as he closely examined the shelf of supplements, “I uh…It’s good to…be…home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was stop here or continue for another 50k words.   
So I thought I'd make it end of part one.   
Did you enjoy it?


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